Up Close and Personal (16 page)

When they arrived at the edge of the copse, Bear stopped to rummage in his rucksack. ‘We need to take some precautionary measures,’ he said, pulling out a dark wool balaclava. ‘Here, put this on. It’ll give you some camouflage.’

Nicole did as she was told, pushing her shoulder-length hair up into the hat. ‘What about you?’ she asked.

‘This’ll do me.’ Bending down, Bear scooped up a handful of mud and began daubing it over his cheeks, nose and
forehead. ‘Okay, now turn off the torch,’ he said. ‘We don’t want them to see us coming.’

Nicole flicked the switch. Now the only light came from the moon and the millions of twinkling stars.

Bear touched her arm lightly. ‘Are you ready?’

Nicole nodded.

‘Good, then follow me.’

Nicole was feeling more than a little apprehensive as they set off, but she knew instinctively that, whatever happened, Bear would protect her. As they continued deeper into the woods, the noises grew louder. There was giggling – female as well as male – accompanied by strange grunts and snorts.

‘It sounds as if there are quite a few of them,’ Bear whispered. ‘We need to be very careful; stay close to me.’

They advanced further, their footfalls muffled by the mulchy ground. Up ahead, Nicole could see a clearing staked out by flaming torches. There were figures too, moving in the shadows, though from this distance their forms were indistinct.

Bear pointed out a fallen tree that lay over to the left, twenty feet or so from the clearing. ‘That’ll give us some good cover,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s make a run for it, but remember to stay low or they might see us.’

Together, they scuttled forward, heads bowed, so all they could see was the ground in front of their feet. When they arrived at the tree trunk, they collapsed behind it and sat with their backs to the tree, praying they hadn’t been seen. They needn’t have worried – their targets had other more pressing matters to attend to. While Bear and Nicole waited for their hearts to stop thumping, new and strange vocalizations rent the air.

‘
Baaad
Mr Fox!’ a female voice squealed loudly. ‘Aaah … yes … harder … yes … faster … yes … ooooh!’

Nicole looked at her fellow eco warrior. ‘What the … ?’ she mouthed. Bear, who seemed as nonplussed as she, simply shrugged. Unable to contain her curiosity a moment longer, Nicole rolled onto her knees and raised her balaclava’d head a few inches above the tree trunk.

What she saw made her skin prickle and her eyes bulge. In the clearing were a large group of animals – or, rather, human beings
dressed
as animals. Even more startling, the vast majority were engaged in sexual acts of one sort or another. Nicole’s gaze was drawn to an exceedingly vocal grey mouse, who was kneeling on all fours on a groundsheet, while ‘Baaad Mr Fox’ serviced her from behind. As well as her cries of encouragement, little squeaks issued from the rodent at regular intervals. The fox, by contrast, remained resolutely silent, his bushy tail quivering with each thrust. Nicole’s gaze wandered to the other side of the clearing where a rabbit with gigantic pink ears was performing enthusiastic fellatio on a stag. A wolf sat on a nearby tree stump watching them as he masturbated with a fur-gloved hand.

Bear had now joined Nicole above the tree trunk and he too was stunned by what he saw. ‘Jesus,’ she heard him murmur. ‘I think we’ve interrupted a private party. We’d better make ourselves scarce.’

‘Hang on,’ Nicole whispered back as her eyes were pulled by some invisible force back to the fox. Although the man’s face was completely obscured, she could see how hard he was concentrating on the task in hand by the rigidity of his shoulders and the way his paws gripped his partner’s hips,
pulling them towards him in rhythmic movements. As she watched, mesmerized by the surreal scene, the fox threw back his head and began panting loudly as he approached orgasm. And then, quite without warning, his head fell to the side and he was looking directly at Nicole. The next moment, he was pulling out of the mouse and stuffing his penis – still with its condom on – back into his costume.

The mouse looked over her shoulder. ‘What are you doing?’ she said crossly.

The fox jabbed a finger towards the tree trunk and muttered something before running off into the undergrowth.

Bear grabbed Nicole’s arm and pulled her back behind the tree – but it was too late.

‘Watch out, everyone!’ the mouse cried. ‘We’ve got company. There are people spying on us … over there, behind that fallen tree.’

‘Shit,’ Bear said. ‘Come on, let’s run for it.’

As they took to their heels, a series of angry cries rang out. ‘Piss off! … Bloody peeping Toms! … Don’t you know this is private land?’

The fugitives didn’t look back – not until they were halfway across the strawberry fields when Nicole had to stop and bend over double to catch her breath.

‘Are you okay?’ Bear said, looking anxiously around to make sure they weren’t being pursued by irate animals.

Nicole peeled off the balaclava. ‘I’m fine, just a bit unfit. I haven’t run that fast since I was at school.’ She looked back towards the copse. ‘Can you believe that? Isn’t it funny how some people get their kicks?’

‘Yeah, for a minute back there I thought I was seeing
things.’ He smiled. ‘Anyway, I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Come on, I’d better get you home.’

As they walked across the field, hand in hand, Nicole looked up at the beautiful night sky and smiled. It had been a strange and eventful night, but she wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

11

The gardens of Ashwicke Park were almost unrecognizable. Clusters of trestle tables dotted the front lawn, each one groaning under the weight of a different homemade delicacy – from jams and chutneys to lavishly decorated cakes, towering pyramids of scones and exotic varieties of fudge wrapped in greaseproof paper. Positioned a safe distance away, against a line of oak trees, was a coconut shy and next to it a hoopla, a shooting range and a strongman striker. To the east, on the elevated terrace, a row of hay bales marked out a small arena – this was where the Loxwood Players would enact excerpts from Gilbert and Sullivan, before a troupe of dancers from Miss Golightly’s School of Ballet, Tap and Mime performed an energetic encore. To the west, overlooking the rose garden, stood a timber-framed gazebo. Its windows had been draped with colourful voiles and a hand-painted sign on the door read:
Madame Zsa Zsa, Fortune Teller
. Inside sat Harriet Heaver, the local postmistress. For one day only, she had swapped her usual uniform of pussy-bow blouse and pleated skirt for a turban of cerise silk and a diaphanous gown that did little to flatter her ample curves. Truth be told, Harriet’s only knowledge of the future had been gleaned from the horoscopes page of the
Daily Mail
– but none of the people who crossed Madame Zsa Zsa’s palm with a crisp five-pound note objected to her lack of experience. At the end of the day, it was all for charity.

There had been great excitement in Loxwood when, just before she left for Aspen, Juliet announced her intention to host the town’s annual summer fête. The Ingram family had generously staged the fête at Ashwicke for as long as anyone could remember, but the previous year it had been cancelled at the last minute, following Gus’s sudden and shocking death. There had been some talk of moving the event to an alternative location, but everyone agreed it wouldn’t be the same. And so, as a mark of respect to Gus who, for many years had presided over the fête like a proud ringmaster, a memorial service was held instead at the local church. Juliet, understandably, hadn’t felt well enough to attend. Rumour had it she spent the day in hospital, heavily sedated. But now it seemed the chatelaine of Ashwicke had put those nightmarish times behind her and was keen for things to get back to normal. Nobody doubted her when she promised that this year’s fête would be bigger and better than any that had gone before.

The day in question dawned clear and bright. At two p.m. precisely, Juliet made her way to the entrance gates, where a large crowd of locals was already gathered in the sunshine. A ripple of applause broke out as she took her place in front of the red ribbon that was stretched across the drive. ‘My husband and I would like to declare the Loxwood summer fête open,’ she said, smiling at Dante, who was standing at her shoulder. ‘And I do hope everyone has a wonderful afternoon. I certainly shall.’ With that, Juliet raised her scissors and snipped the ribbon, then stood aside as the fête-goers swept into the estate, eager as a bunch of bargain-hunters on the first day of the Harrods sale.

Yasmin and Nicole joined the procession heading
towards the front lawn, Nicole tutting irritably as a woman in a garish floral dress charged past them, almost upending the buggy in her eagerness to get to the cake stalls.

‘Honestly, some people are so rude,’ Nicole said, as she checked to make sure Tilly was securely strapped in.

Yasmin pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and scanned the lawn. ‘When’s Connor getting here?’

Nicole glanced at her watch. ‘Any minute now. He promised me he wouldn’t be late.’

‘I can’t believe he’s working on a Saturday. The surgery’s not even open, is it?’

‘No, but he’s expecting a bunch of test results in the post and he wanted to call the relevant patients before Monday.’ Nicole gave a long sigh. ‘I suppose I should be proud I’m married to such a dedicated doctor, but I can’t help feeling resentful. Connor works such awfully long hours; he’s missing out on great swathes of Tilly’s babyhood. I thought when he set up his own practice he’d have more free time, but it’s turned out to be quite the opposite.’ She wheeled the buggy round. ‘Come on, let’s get to those cake stalls before all the best goodies get snaffled.’

As the two women wandered from stall to stall, it wasn’t long before Yasmin spotted a familiar face. ‘Look,’ she said, nudging Nicole. ‘Isn’t that Charlie, Juliet’s porter, standing behind that table over there?’

Nicole squinted into the distance. ‘I think you’re right. Let’s go and say hello, shall we?’

When the women arrived at the stall, Charlie was busy serving a customer. Behind him, chambermaid Leah lay sprawled on the grass in a pair of denim shorts and a skimpy bandeau top.

‘
Hi, Charlie,’ Yasmin said, as the customer wandered away. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. I wouldn’t have thought summer fêtes were your thing.’

The porter grinned. ‘They’re not usually, but I’m hoping this one will turn out to be a nice little earner.’

Yasmin looked down at the table, which was draped in dark green velvet, presumably in an attempt to make Charlie’s misshapen chocolate brownies, clumsily wrapped in clingfilm, look more appetizing. ‘Did you make these yourself?’

‘I certainly did – with a little help from Leah here.’

The chambermaid raised a languid arm and let it fall again. ‘Hey,’ she said in a sleepy voice.

Nicole prodded the nearest package of cakes with a forefinger, testing it for moistness, then gasped as she noticed the price label. ‘Ten pounds for four brownies? That’s a bit steep, isn’t it?’

‘Ahh, but you see these aren’t just any old brownies,’ said Charlie, pointing out the words
Extra Special
on the handwritten label. He reached for an identical-looking package on the other side of the table. ‘If it’s the ordinary variety you’re after, these ones are a quarter of the price.’

‘So what’s the difference – are the extra-special ones organic?’ Nicole asked.

Leah giggled. ‘You could say that.’

Charlie’s eyes flickered from side to side like a cobra’s as he checked to see who was in earshot. Then he leaned across the table. ‘They’re hash brownies,’ he whispered. ‘Available to discerning customers only. Obviously, if some old dear tries to buy some, I’ll fob her off with the other ones.’

Nicole’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Does Juliet know about this?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ He eyed her suspiciously. ‘You’re not going to grass me up, are you?’

Yasmin tutted. ‘Don’t be silly, of course she isn’t –
are
you, Nicole?’

‘Well, I’m not sure … drug-dealing is illegal, after all,’ Nicole said primly.

‘Oh, don’t be so boring,’ Yasmin said, reaching for her purse. ‘I’ll take a package of the extra-special variety, please.’

‘Yasmin!’ Nicole exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you indulged.’

‘Just occasionally,’ her friend replied airily. ‘And today I happen to feel like spoiling myself.’

Ignoring the other woman’s clucks of disapproval, Yasmin pressed a ten-pound note into Charlie’s hand. ‘And don’t worry,’ she told him. ‘Your secret’s safe with us.’

‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘And there’s plenty more where they came from.’ He produced a small white card from the cashbox and handed it to Yasmin. ‘Here’s my mobile number … just in case you feel like spoiling yourself another time.’

Yasmin’s eyes lit up. ‘Great, I’ll bear that in mind.’

Next to her, Nicole gave a theatrical shudder.

‘You should try one,’ Yasmin told her friend as she picked up the cakes. ‘You never know, you might like it.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Nicole said as she turned and began walking towards a stall selling hand-knitted toys.

Twenty minutes later, their shopping bags bulging with purchases, the two women found themselves wandering towards the amusements. As they drew nearer, they noticed that a large crowd had gathered in front of the strongman striker.

‘I wonder what’s happening over there,’ Nicole mused out loud.

‘I’ll go and have a look,’ said Yasmin, striding ahead. She stopped at the edge of the crowd, peering between the shoulders of the people in front of her. A second later, she turned and beckoned to Nicole. ‘Hurry up, Nic. You don’t want to miss this.’

Nicole wheeled the pushchair towards her. ‘What is it? What’s going on?’

‘See for yourself,’ Yasmin replied, stepping aside to make room for her friend.

When Nicole saw who was standing beside the strongman striker, looking disreputably handsome in a pink shirt and faded Levi’s, she gasped out loud. ‘Connor!’ she exclaimed. But her husband was too busy playing to the crowd to notice her.